


And Just Like That... Everything Changed

by wordsonpages



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 13:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsonpages/pseuds/wordsonpages
Summary: "Here in this diner, where he felt at peace with the one person who he felt he truly belonged with, who made him feel like he belonged. Here in this diner, with this girl and no one and nothing else he reveled. He breathed in the lax atmosphere and his lungs thrived in the feeling of fresh, untainted air. The moment was innocent and light and everything he never dreamed he could have.And then it all changed. "-What if it had been Jughead and Betty at Pop's that morning instead of Archie and Fred?Riverdale had changed. A civil war is brewing. A tale of young love in the face of the world seemingly falling apart.





	1. The moment everything changed...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovelies! So I started this as a oneshot from an anon request on tumblr to write an angsty Bughead fic and then it turned into a multi chapter haha. I hope you enjoy it! I have lots of ideas for this one and will try and update as often as I can, though sometimes writers block can make that a bit of a challenge... Hope you like it! x 
> 
> PS this does have some violence and depiction of injury. I don't think it's overly graphic, but I thought it's better to be safe than sorry so you have been warned.

Jughead swung the door to Pop’s open, stepping aside for Betty to enter first. The familiar chime as they crossed the threshold enveloped them both in a sense of comfort and reassurance. Not everything changed. This was still Pop’s and they were still them, walking into the neon lit diner as they had countless times before; as children, as friends, as a couple. 

It was early and the sun had barely begun to encroach on the town as they made their way to the Chocklit Shoppe. The bright lights, were harsh as always yet encased the place in a warmth unrivalled by any other entity in town. The red leather of the booths shiny and worn, holding thousands of stories and memories.   
It was empty bar them, a certain serenity settling with that knowledge. 

It had been a long night. After they had been so abruptly interrupted by the Serpent’s and Jughead had accepted the jacket- a token of loyalty and a promise of the changes to come- they had spent hours talking, their voices and whispered affirmations of love and will trailing into the early hours of the morning. Betty had aired all her concerns and made him understand she would accept it but it didn’t mean she had to like everything that came with the emblem that would now adorn his back. And Jughead had helped her to see that things had already changed and it was about survival now, these people had accepted him and had his back without even knowing him and he needed people in his corner. He made her see that whether they liked it or not he was going to lead a life on the Southside – a fact undisputable- and that he loved her and this could not change that.   
Afterwards they had fallen asleep curled up together, their love casting a soft glow across the trailer, warding off the demons that lay beyond just for a little while. 

“Good morning kids!” Pop’s typical amicable tone greeted. He was behind the counter, finishing putting straws in holders and starting a pot of coffee. 

“Morning Pop,” Betty returned warmly, a polite smile gracing her face, while Jughead nodded striding over to his usual booth. Betty followed behind him, her fingers laced through his. 

“The usual?” the older man called to them from his spot at the counter, a fond smile on his lips as he watched the young couple. 

“What else?” Jughead threw back a good natured grin on his face. 

He slid to the far side of the booth, and his Hitchcock blonde nestled herself into his side, one leg- clad in his old sweat pants- coming up to rest on the leather while the other rested over his own dark denim covered limb. Her hair was hanging freely by her shoulders and one of his flannels was swallowing her torso. Her face was angled toward his and his breath caught at the sight of her. 

She was beautiful always, but in this moment, shrouded by early morning light, free of the shackles of expectation and perfection, dwarfed by his clothing and radiating warmth, she was absolutely stunning. Jughead wasn’t stupid. He knew they had a long road ahead of them, that not all of their concerns and fears could be negated in one night. But for now they were okay and she was here and she loved him. It simultaneously made him feel alive and terrified. He had never been good with love, or rather it had never been good to him. But somehow this pastel clad, blonde, smart, determined girl had crept her way into his soul, making home their and prying his trust out of his firm grip to carry in her own. She had unlocked his heart and carved her name deep into the tissue. 

“What?” Betty asked, her eyes shining with affection and he realised he had been staring at her. Jughead shook his head, too far gone to feel embarrassed and rather revelling in the effect she had on him. 

“Nothing,” the raven haired boy said quietly in the minute space between them, eyes alight with mirth and contentment as her face twisted into an expression of mock exasperation.

“Juggie,” she whined and he chuckled conceding to tell her. 

“You’re beautiful Elizabeth Cooper,” he stated simply, voice low and honest and Betty felt her heart stutter and her pulse jump at the sincerity she found in his piercing blue eyes. 

Betty smiled at him, soft and genuine before bringing a hand to his cheek and pecking his lips.   
Their eyes remained close for a second as they pulled away, basking in the sensation of each other. 

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, sliding back across the crimson seat and moving toward the ladies room. 

Jughead sighed as his eyes followed her retreating figure. 

He’s not sure if he’s ever felt more at ease in his entire life as he did right now. Although he wasn’t partial to the phrase he couldn’t really label this moment anything but perfect. Here in this nostalgic diner that had watched them grow up, offered him sanctity and protection in some of his darkest times, been the facilitator for some of his best memories, he felt at peace. Here in this diner, where he felt at peace with the one person who he felt he truly belonged with, who made him feel like he belonged. Here in this diner, with this girl and no one and nothing else he revelled. He breathed in the lax atmosphere and his lungs thrived in the feeling of fresh, untainted air. The moment was innocent and light and everything he never dreamed he could have. 

And then it all changed. 

The familiar chime rang out echoing off the walls. And despite the sound being one he had heard billions of times in his life, Jughead felt a shiver run down his spine. Something was off. This was different. Jughead’s eyes morphed into a harder shade of blue-steel- as he raised them toward the door. His body froze. Ice crept into his veins and his heart stopped. 

Heavy steps echoed off the shining floor, as a disguised, dark figure made his way toward the counter. He had a balaclava over his face but that wasn’t the cause of the terror trickling through his veins, freezing his blood and inhibiting his breath. In his left hand the man carried a gun.   
Alarm bells were ringing in his head, blaring at him- move. Run. Do something. But he wasn’t in his body anymore. It was like he watching the events unfold from somewhere high above, an outsider peering in, but not really there. 

“Where is he?” the man growled as his slow, demanding steps corrupted the innocence of the new day.   
He stopped just before the counter, menacing and trepidation embodied in one burly figure and rough voice. Jughead’s eyes drifted to Pop who stood shaking, on the other side of the counter, face contorting in fear. He dared not breathe.

A beat. 

Another. 

His lungs burned. 

“I said where is he?!” The man yelled, aggression filling his voice and bouncing off the walls of the shoppe reverberating in Jughead’s ears and making his soul quake. His eyes drifted to the gun which was being raised in the direction of the old man, the click of it being cocked, drawing a sharp inhale from him. 

“I please… I don’t… who?.. I” Pop babbled incoherently, cheeks glistening with tears as he shook and cowered. 

“Fred Andrews. Where. Is. He?” the man repeated threat laced within every syllable as the gun tipped up. 

Suddenly Jughead found himself sliding cautiously to the edge of the booth. He was careful to be silent and still. The mention of Fred had kicked his body back to gear and he found himself coming back into reality, terrifying, life threatening reality.   
Who would want to shoot Fred? His brain hummed, while his heart thudded. His movements were calculated as he raised himself up, standing now. The silence in the air was louder than anything he had ever heard and the thrum of blood pounding in his ears created white noise. 

“Juggie?”

His eyes snapped to the source of the soft voice that had broken the deafening silence enveloping the diner, tension thick and suffocating. Betty’s emotive green eyes filled with fear as she took in the sight before her, limbs freezing to the spot as her body shrunk, further disappearing into his clothes.   
The gunman turned, his weapon pointing directly at the love of his life. Jughead’s chest constricted unbearably and all air evacuated his lungs. His heart broke as Betty shrunk back further her face going from alarm and fear to full blown panic. His lips were moving before he even registered what he was saying. 

“Betty,” his voice as hoarse and worn, her gaze locked on his, anxiety ridden eyes pleading with his own. “Betty it’s okay, just keep your eyes on me,” she swallowed thickly but nodded. The man turning toward him upon the intrusion of Jughead’s voice. He felt a sigh of relief leave his lungs as the man’s body changed angels once again, the barrel of the gun now staring him down. Betty whimpered in response. Tears pooled in her eyes and he felt the organ in his chest shattering beneath his will to protect her. 

“Shutup!” The man yelled , his tone exasperated and impatient.   
Jughead didn’t pay any mind though, his only thought and concern the girl glued to the spot far too many meters away. 

“Betts just keep your eyes on me. Everything’s gonna be fine.” She did what he said, but he could see the tremble in her lips, the stains on her cheeks and the clenched hands by her sides. Hands he longed to grip in his own right now. 

Jughead’s heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, he felt sick to his stomach and wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t pass out right there. But somehow he managed to paint a faint smile on his face and keep his gaze locked to hers, ignoring the weapon poised at his chest, despite it taking up all the space in the room. 

“I SAID SHUTUP!” 

And then it was searing pain. 

The room went red and the world fell to black. Jughead stumbled backward, his eyes going wide as his body exacerbated into flames. Somewhere in a far corner of his mind he registered heavy footsteps fleeing. He recollected a flash of black boots against blood stained tiles. But mostly it was just pain-blinding. 

Betty’s eyes widened as the trigger was pulled, the sound of the shot searing her mind and engraining itself into her haunted memories. She felt the impact hit her square in the chest. Only she wasn’t bleeding. She crumbled to her knees, a scream tearing itself from her throat, broken and desperate as Jughead fell back, his eyes too became wide, his face turning pale as his shirt stained red and he fell to the ground. 

The man fled. 

Betty felt tears leak down her face, as distressed sobs and cries ripped their way through her being. She scrambled forward, feeling numb and in excruciating pain all at once. 

“Jughead!” She gasped, falling beside his body, her horror stricken eyes darting around the scene. Blood. So much blood. The ground around him was red, his shirt was red, her hands, were red from where they were pressing down on the gaping wound in his abdomen. 

“No!” She shook her head furiously as her vision blurred and her eyes stung. Her hands trembled and her blood burned her veins. 

“No, no, no, no..NO!” she cried the mantra, over his limp body. 

His eyes stared into hers scared and empty. Her sobs wracked her body and her tears stained his face while his blood stained her fingers. 

“Juggie please!” her voice sounded like it was underwater and the hysteria in it was unmistakable. The sounds of sirens blaring echoed distantly and she vaguely registered Pop must have called the ambulance. 

Jughead’s eyes met hers as she brushed his hair away from his forehead which was now damp with sweat. 

“Betts-“ he wheezed, barely making it through the syllable, his breath escaping him and his face contorting in blinding pain as he spoke. 

“Shh,” she hushed, salty tears mingling with the words as she stroked his face. 

“Just stay with me Jug,” she pressed her forehead to his, and willed his being to live. She felt so hopeless and lost and broken and all she could do was watch him die until the paramedics showed up. 

“Just keep looking at me,” she breathed, unable to get enough air in her lungs. His eyes began to slide shut and cold panic filled her being ten times over. 

“No! Jug! JUGGIE!” her red fingers pried his eyes open and he complied, lifting the heavy lids as best he could while she smeared his own blood over his cheeks while she cradled them. His breathes were almost non-existent now and Betty felt the chilling hand of the Grim reaper so close by. 

She prayed with all her strength as the sobs continued to wrack her frame and her tears were steadily falling on him. She felt incomplete. Like she was being ripped in two or a blade was driving through her chest. 

“Don’t you dare leave me Forsythe Jones,” his lip twitched faintly at the name, but she dare not hope, only praying as she tried not to notice the ghostly white pigment his skin had taken on or the blue shade that now coloured those lips. 

“Not now. Not after you made me fall in love with you.”


	2. Chapter two

Blaring alarms rang in her ears, the sound obnoxious and hopeful all at once. Betty felt like she was under water, every sound muffled, every movement sluggish. Time seemed to pass impossibly slow-a stark contrast to the speed in which the bullet had hit him. His breathing was becoming more shallow and ragged by the second, his skin almost translucent. It felt cold under her hand which rested on his face [the other still pressing down on the wound].

His eyes kept threatening to flutter closed and each time she’d urge them open, keeping his gaze and making out the far off look in them behind the watery sheen in her own. Her mouth felt like a dessert but she kept whispering “please” and “stay with me” or “I love you” into the suffocating air between them.

Red and Blue lights illuminated the diner, the paramedics bursting through the door mere moments later. The chime of the bell was lost in their haste.

 

“Just hang on Jug,” she breathed, a slither of relief sliding into her heart.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Jughead wheezed; quiet, broken and wretched. It made her want to throw up but steeling her strength Betty merely stroked his hair away from his chilled, damp forehead.

“Shh,” she whispered gently, trying to keep the panic and despair out of her tone.

boyfriend’s body and more so, his life. She couldn’t register what was happening, rather she could only think about how much colder her hand found now that is was bereft of his even with his skin so icy. How empty and lost and useless she felt as pain erupted in her chest all over again and spread outward.

They moved his body onto a gurney and all she could think was-

So much blood.

It was dark and tainting over pristine white tiles. Betty couldn’t tear her eyes away from the pool, spreading and eating away at the floor and her sanity. A tear dripped off her cheek landing in the liquid and sending ripples running outward through the scarlet.

“Your riding with him,” one of the paramedics asked voice calm but enshrined with urgency. Betty took a moment to respond, the words seeming to be on delay. 

When they finally settled on her ears she nodded furiously and climbed up on shaking legs.

“Girlfriend?” the woman asked as she clambered into the ambulance behind the gurney. The shell of the blonde girl nodded, her eyes never leaving Jughead’s form.

His eyes were shut now, his shirt cut open as the paramedics accessed the wound. He was hooked up to machines, doing most of his breathing for him.

The blaring sirens started up again and Betty felt the lump in her throat grow.

And then her world came crashing down all over again.

A different jarring sound cut through the air. The sound of breaths through tubes stopped all together. A harsh flat line, alarming, dire and demanding pulsed throughout the vehicle.

“We lost him!”

Betty’s heart shattered. The sharp broken pieces seeping into her blood and catching and cutting on her arteries and veins as her severed organ kept trying to push it through her body. She couldn’t breathe. Everything was falling, crashing, spiralling, burning. Panic and pain, a lethal combination like nothing she had ever experienced surged through her body, making it seize at the poison. A mangled cry left her throat as the debris of the hell she was now in the midst of crushed her. Her soul left her body, leaving it empty and cold.

The paramedic was by his side doing things Betty couldn’t even attempt to comprehend. The sound of machines trying to tell her he was dead rang in her mind like a sick, morbid taunt was on loop as the pain and emptiness battled within her. A voice nothing like her own- weak, broken, devastated, grieving- infiltrating the air. It was begging the woman and God and “ANYONE” to “PLEASE GOD PLEASE BRING HIM BACK”.

The obnoxious noise settled and a steady ore subtle beep pierced the air now. Betty stilled paralysed. Her eyes wide and blinking slowly.

“He’s back,” the woman breathed, relieved offering Betty a small smile. She didn’t return it merely slumping back with her own gasp. Air came back into her lungs, and her soul permeated its way back into her core.

“He’s a strong one.”

Another blink and they were at the hospital. The doors of the ambulance burst open. And then he was gone.

Her body, paralysed till that moment suddenly shot forward. No! They couldn’t take him from her now. Her logical mind, hidden in the depths of her frazzled and distressed emotional state knew that they needed to take him. But her soul and heart which were inextricably linked with his seared at the distance and uncertainty.

“Jughead!” she called, her voice rough and panicked.

A nurse was beside her in an instant but her eyes remained desperately on his body which was trailing further and faster from her line of sight.

“They’re going to take him to surgery sweetie,” the older woman said gently, placing what would be a reassuring hand on her back if Betty was capable of feeling any sensation at all in that moment.

The hand then guided her swiftly, yet delicately toward the building.

“Let’s get you settled in the waiting room. I’m sure there are some people you need to call,” another warm smile.

Half an hour later Betty found herself sitting in the dull, plastic and linoleum infused waiting room of Riverdale ICU. Her body was rigid, her face stoic. She had been staring blankly at the wall across from her since she sat down. Her hands lay in her lap trembling, while her limbs ached.

Suddenly the white double doors to the waiting room burst open, the sound covering the low murmur of the television hanging on the wall. Her mind was vaguely aware that whoever was rushing through them was probably here for her… for him.

She couldn’t bring herself to move though. Her will to do anything but wait long gone.

Alice Cooper’s concerned and weary face appeared before her, bringing her one step back from whatever brink she was on. 

“Betty,” her mum spoke in a quiet voice, brimming with maternal empathy and true worry for the Jones boy she can developed a fondness for. 

Her sore and swollen eyes snapped to her mums, she registered the pressure of manicured hands on her knees. 

Her stare was far off. 

“How is he?” A low voice murmured from behind her mother and it was only then that Betty registered Archie, Fred. She didn’t know which one asked but they were both sporting furrowed brows, tight jaws and pained eyes. 

Her voice was raw and vulnerable when she spoke. 

“He’s-” she choked on the word a sob coming up instead-no tears though, she had none left- as her mind flooded with images of blood Ava sounds if heard failing.

Her eyes shut as she took a deep breath, reopening them and shaking her head. 

“I don’t know." 

Archie nodded collapsing in the chair beside her and running his hands over his face aggressively. 

Fred mentioned something about finding coffee for them squeezing her shoulder as he walked past. 

"I’m so sorry Honey,” Alice whispered, brushing some of her daughter’s unruly blonde hair behind her ear. 

“I’ll see what I can Find out,” she promised dropping a kiss to her forehead before rising to her feet. And briskly trekking off. 

Betty slumped back in her seat, her eyes finding the wall again. Her fingers tugged at the hem of her flannel…his flannel. The darkness encroached on her, smearing her organs, creating a gaping space in her chest and a black hole in her stomach. She had never felt so empty and alone in her life as she did in that moment in the sterile hospital waiting room with her mother down the hall and her neighbour and best friend sat in the chair to her left while the love of her life fought for his. 

And that darkness -the one she was learning to recognise, understand and even embrace a little- had never terrified her as much as it was now. Because even though he exuded darkness and mystery he was her shade of light. He wasn’t blinding colour, he wasn’t the glossy enhanced image of a fantasy. Rather he was the spots of white in their old movie, the loan star in the ebony sky, the lighter shades that made Noir captivating as they contrasted with the dark. He was real and beautiful and enlivening in a subtle, organic, necessary way. 

Archie let out a heavy sigh next to her and Betty meekly turned her head toward him. His brown eyes were conflicted and somewhere in the back of her mind she recognised he was wrestling with words; a trait she couldn’t help but notice was so antithetical to his best friend, the lump in thrust grew, the darkness spread. 

“Are you…” the red head trailed off upon taking in the state of his best friend. She looked vacant, distraught, lost. 

He felt so hopeless seeing her like that. It only served to twist the knots he was already feeling in his stomach for his brother further. 

“He died Archie.” Betty said after a moment, her words stark in the clinical, depressing silence of the room.

His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open as he stared at her, waiting. 

“In the ambulance. His heart it… stopped." 

Archie fought back a sob as his body went rigid with the image of Jughead’s lifeless body infiltrating his mind. He could only grasp at what Betty must have felt like actually seeing it. 

"He was dead and I-” her voice was quiet and hollow and it was far more haunting then any cry of wail ever could have been.

“God Betty, I’m so sorry,” Archie implored, moving a hand down to search for hers in a grasp of comfort. 

Her hand was trembling and sticky. Archie looked down in confusion. He audibly gasped as he took in the sight of her pale skin soaked in blood. The dry crimson coating he fingers and staining her nails. 

“Betty…”

The broken girls eyebrows creased in lack of understanding before following his gaze. Her hands were covered, her shirt-his shirt- was too, tainted with his blood, drenched in sin. Her chest ached, and she felt the same burning she had felt in her abdomen when the bullet ripped through his body, hit her again. 

“Oh." 

And then she broke. The physical proof of what has occurred evoking her anguish all over again. Tears stung her eyes and fell down her cheeks and to the floor while her body wracked with grief and wrought with pain followed suit, collapsing from the chair. Her chest heaved and her throat closed up. She couldn’t get air in her lungs and the stale atmosphere was suffocating her. Her fingers tore at the alternate wrists, trying in vain the scrape and scratch the blood from them. The horrific beeping of flat lines echoing in her brain; "We lost him!” On a loop. 

Archie fell beside her lost and hurting and totally unsure of what to do. He was in shock and inept and his own heart was breaking for her. Breaking for his brother and his best friend who has been through so much hell and managed to stand strong and were now literally falling around him. 

Suddenly Mrs Cooper and his dad were there. The distressed cries of the girl on the floor drawing their attention. Alice was on the ground in an instant picking Betty up and encasing her in her arms as if she were a child. She held her tight attempting to hold together all the broken pieces threatening to fall. 

“He died” Betty sobbed into her mother’s chest over and over again. Alice just held her tighter whispering soothing words in her ear despite knowing nothing could appease a broken heart and a worried soul of someone young and in love. 

Eventually Betty’s hysteria settled down and she was left in a heap of tear stains, blood marring and breaths heaving but allowing of oxygen. 

“Let’s go get you cleaned up,” Alice spoke softly in Betty’s ear, cautious of her fragility. 

“No I can’t leave.” Her green eyes were panicked and scared. 

“He’s still in surgery and will be for a while,” her mother tried to reason, wiping Betty’s cheeks and helping her up to her feet. She still looked apprehensive. 

“I’ll let you know if anything happens I promise” Fred soothed gently and Betty sighed nodding her head slightly and offering Archie a look of apology before letting her mother guide her toward the bathroom. 

Once inside the safety of the ladies room Betty slumped against the counter. She noticed her mother’s clothing then sweat pants and an old sweatshirt. It was strange to see Alice Cooper liberated from heels and blouses and Betty felt a painful pang in her chest at the affection her mother had for her boyfriend to rush to the hospital in such a state and a trickle of graciousness for her unwavering devotion to her daughters. 

Alice gently removed the shirt and Betty felt the sting of guilt in her chest. She didn’t want to be rid of it, she wanted to hold onto him in any way she could but she knew she couldn’t walk around with his blood all over her. 

Her mother grabbed a wad of paper towel and quickly sponged her down after rinsing it, then reached into an overnight bag Betty has just noticed at their feet and replaced the flannel with another one. It was Jughead’s. Betty immediately recognised the barely there scent of cigarettes, deodorant and something uniquely him.   
Her eyes met her mother’s as Alice buttoned her up; grateful and slightly questioning. 

“I know it’s your favourite,” Alice stated simply, her tone kind and put together in a way only a mother could do to hold strength for their child. 

“I can’t lose him mum.”

“I know." 

Betty appreciated that her mum didn’t lie to her, especially after everything. But she still felt her heart sunk again into the depths of her hurt. She was exhausted and on edge and so hopeless. 

"He’s strong Betty. We just have to pray and trust." 

Betty nodded, biting her lip and grasping her mother’s hands where they held hers in the sink, scrubbing. 

After being satisfied she was cleared of the tainting crimson, Alice tied her hair back in a loose pony tail and then linked their fingers together again.   
Betty took a step forward her legs a little more steady now. 

 

They made their way back to the waiting room, finding a small crowd had gathered in their absence. 

Archie was in the same seat, Veronica now occupying the one Betty had been in. Her dad and Polly were there too, while Kevin leaned by the window.  
Betty startled at the image part of her warming at the proof before her that people did care about him. That he did belong. Something she had always known but none the less was glad of the confirmation. 

Her dad moved to her side Squeezing her hand and dropping a kiss to her head. She offered a defeated smile and shuffled to reclaim a seat amongst the group, closest the the doors that his the wards. 

Veronica leaned across the pat her knee while Polly came to sit by her side. Everyone seemed to understand this was no time for words, they just simply needed to be there.   
They spent hours like that. The morning trickling into afternoon. They took turns getting coffee, going for walks, sourcing food and checking for updates. Betty stayed put not daring to stray father than the window. She was pacing there now. 

"Forsythe Jones?” A voice rang through the air of the waiting room now filled with quiet chatter and restless fidgeting. 

Betty was immediately in front of the doctor. Breathe baited and heart poised ready to fall apart all over again. 

“Is he okay?” She whispered. 

“The bullet was lodged in his rips, punctured his lung which collapsed and there was a lot of internal bleeding. We lost him. But he’s a fighter. He’s got a long way to go and the next 24 hours are critical but we are confident will make a full recovery." 

Betty felt the weight lift off her shoulders as her brain processed the doctor’s words. He was alive. 

She breathed out finally feeling like her lungs were functioning again and her heart was able to beat once more. She still felt extremely off kilter, but knowing he was safe saw some of her soul ebb away at the darkness and the burn in her heart subside. 

"Can I see him?"


End file.
